


Atmosphere, Disappear

by greenhibiscus



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 23:28:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18041141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenhibiscus/pseuds/greenhibiscus
Summary: Harry's thing for Nick just won't go away. James helps him forget.





	Atmosphere, Disappear

It was London fashion week. 

It’d been raining for days and the bars were all packed with people wearing assertive prints and swooping, dark hair styles. Harry couldn’t remember the name of the bar he was in, but the blue flecks in the linoleum were familiar. He drummed his fingers on the bar top and winced as he remembered coughing up mouth fulls of gin in the bathroom while Nick’s laughter rang off the tiles. How many years ago was that? Four, five? It was when they still shared a bed, but before they were fucking. Before they were strangers again. 

Nick was sitting across the bar and Harry had yet to speak to him. He was laughing with someone, like always. Harry couldn’t couldn’t make out who it was, could just tell it was a thin man a couple inches taller than himself with hair just a bit darker and straighter. The crinkles around Nick’s eyes deepened as he smiled and his lips pursed as Harry watched him run his hand down the man’s back and hook his thumb in the man’s waistband. 

What a display. Harry rolled his eyes. The man pushed his hair back from his forehead and the movement made the sequins on his pink button down glitter. How derivative. No men were wearing sequins before Harry. Nick leaned in and whispered in the man’s ear and Harry could feel himself leaning forward trying to catch anything passing between them. 

The lights in the bar went down before Nick could notice the leering, and Harry was grateful for it. The thing with Nick came and went, and was difficult to explain. He’d read an article once that said men never really get over the first woman they sleep with and Harry was convinced his preoccupation with Nick was something similar. The first person who’d made sex fun, and carefree, and the first cock he’d sucked. Harry licked his lips as the stage lights began to flood blue. He loved sucking cock. It had been so long. 

He knew he’d started drinking too early that night. He’d forgotten there was going to be a show, that’s why he came to this bar. The bar he knew was Nick’s favorite, and that he’d been avoiding for the past year. He remembered being excited. Who was playing? He finished the watered down slush at the bottom of his glass and remembered the singer at the same moment the opening notes screamed out of the guitar. James Bay. 

Nick was obsessed with the new release and never shut up about it. Lately it seemed like the Breakfast Show was nothing but one long James Bay commercial. Harry had never heard an album called Moody and Sexy so many times before. But it was true. James had a grit and howl that was out of Harry’s range and he was jealous. That was why he was here. To introduce himself and try to get close. To sneak back into Nick’s world. He had been so sure it made sense. He wished he wasn’t so drunk. He wished Nick didn’t make him feel so nervous and young. 

Harry’s glass slipped out of his hand and dropped onto the bar when the stage lights went up. James stood illuminated, his guitar was smooth and polished black, and his skin glowed from the reflections sparking from his shirt. It was almost the end of the first song and the thin fabric was just beginning to cling to his chest, the bumps of his ribs beginning to show. Nick stood at the side of the stage, happily drinking something bright purple and dancing along to the music. 

It made sense. James was just like Harry, only sleeker, more mysterious. Older. More sophisticated. His songs were poems, not pop dribble. Harry waved over the bartender and ordered a water. He had to sober up, he had to stop spiraling. He had a reputation to maintain. He was Harry Styles: style icon, pop star, perennial bachelor. He felt the cold water settle in his belly and his vision was almost entirely clear by the middle of the set. 

It was hard to look away when James was on stage. Even after the alcohol wore off and he was left with a headache. James saved his first big hit for last and Harry started to work his way toward the venue dressing rooms. The security guard waved him through immediately. One benefit of having the most recognizable face in the UK. 

The bar was old and cramped, Nick would call it Classic, and there were only three dressing rooms crammed along a narrow hallway. The door labeled for James was slightly ajar and Harry could see someone’s shadow drifting across the walls. He knew Nick wouldn’t be in there. Too obvious. His stomach still rumbled with nerves as he knocked on the door twice, quick and loud. The air became still, and after a few seconds the door opened and there stood James Bay pushing his hair out of his eyes. 

It almost didn’t happen. James looked at him and smiled, no more enthusiastic than if he’d opened the door to see the bar manager, and Harry began to relax, but then. Then James’ eyes widened and his brow furrowed and he realized he was standing in front of Harry Styles. Harry hated this part. 

“Hey,” he said, feeling like he was listening to himself talk through a wall, “I loved your set, really great stuff. Could I pop in for a bit? I’m Harry, by the way,” Harry smiled and stuck out his hand and hoped that his charm would work on a Northerner. James shook his hand, slowly, and stepped back to let him into the dressing room. He closed the door and asked plainly, “So, we’ve never met before, have we? What can I do for you, Harry?” 

James didn’t sound annoyed, or angry, or even jealous. He just sounded curious. 

“Well, I really liked your first record, and this one is so Moody and Sexy,” He tried to say it like Nick, like it was a compliment. He sounded more like a first year English major. Harry decided he’d suffered too much not to plow onwards so he continued, “Sorry, that was weird, anyway, I’ve started work on my new record and I wanted to know if you’d want to come by the studio and write sometime? If you’re not busy,” Harry finally felt on even footing and smiled as he pushed his hands into his pockets and studied the open guitar case behind James on the grubby couch. The guitar was a shiny, jade color. Harry had a suit that it would match perfectly. He hadn’t planned to ask to write together, but it seemed genuine enough. 

“Oh, sure. Yeah, that’d be fun,” James was nodding as he spoke, but his brow was still drawn tight, as if he was waiting for a prank to be revealed. He tracked Harry’s vision and glanced behind him at the guitar, Harry looked away. “Listen, I don’t mean to be rude, but I have someone waiting for me,”

Harry’s eyes snapped back up and met James’. His face looked relaxed, now. Nick had that affect on people. “I know we have some of the same friends, so I’ll get your number off one of them, yeah? Really, sorry to rush, but I have to be going, my Uber is here,” James turned and closed his guitar case in one motion. He swung it on his back and Harry heard his iPhone vibrating against the think silver ring he wore on his index finger. 

“I’m gonna lose my driver, have a good night, Harry,” James clapped Harry on the shoulder and disappeared into the hallway. Harry wondered how many young pop stars had learned how to speak in code from Nick Grimshaw. It’d been like listening to a recording of himself lying to Gemma about where he kept slipping off too in Primrose Hill. He exhaled and sank onto the sunken, mustard yellow couch and indulged in thoughts he usually forbade himself from. 

—

It had been so nice to have sex with Nick. He was so lean, and strong, and solid. It was so good to lay beneath another man. To be held down. He looked at his watch. 1:15 AM. If he called a car now he’d be home by 2:30. By then Nick and James would be warm and sleeping beneath Nick’s obnoxious sheepskin comforter he found on clearance at IKEA. 

The wait for an Uber had never been more bitter. Harry refused to cry, but his eyes still felt hot as he pulled open the door of his ride. He felt stupid, and rejected, and hungover. The bad, irrational feelings always came crashing down as the alcohol burned out of his system. His driver waved a greeting and otherwise didn’t speak. The radio was tuned to the BBC and it was so late that the only thing airing was a repeat of the day’s financial report. 

Nick’s bed smelled like sandalwood and lavender. Harry’s bed smelled like nothing when he sank into it. He hadn’t slept there enough times for the sheets to even pick up his cologne and the starchy smell of fresh linen burned his nostrils. He was cold, hungover, and frustrated. If James would do a song with him he could explain. If he could just explain. 

—

Harry’s phone chimed as he soaked in an afternoon bath the next day. His skin was flushed pink and his face was beaded with sweat. He had already had a Bloody Mary and was 30 minutes away from completing his Styles Hangover Cure Ritual. He tensed. He did not appreciate interruption. 

He wiped his hand on the t-shirt he’d dropped on the floor and grabbed his phone from the counter before easing himself back into the water. The message was from an unknown number. Harry hesitated, but opened it. If his number had been leaked there would have been hundreds of messages at once, not just one. 

hey harry! it’s james! i got your number from nick last night. he’s got some hilarious pictures of you at his place. do you still wanna meet up?

Harry stared at the message and reread it until it didn’t make sense anymore. His belly rolled with icy tingles and he refused to feel embarrassed. He was the one who ended it, after all. He had no claim over Nick now. Or ever again. James was better suited to him, anyway. All’s well that ends well. Releasing a song with James would be a professional milestone for Harry. His first official collaboration as a solo artist, and with another British songwriter known for his style and ambivalent heterosexuality. It would generate a lot of press and definitely engage both their fan bases, along with other demographics known for their disposable incomes. 

Harry saved the number and restrained himself from using emojis in his response. 

hey! yeah lets meet up for sure! 

Harry reread the messages and wondered what pictures James saw. Were they the ones when he was 16 and smiling on the beach, or the ones where he was 21 smiling in bed? Both options had their downsides. 

It had seemed natural when he started having sex with Nick. It was like their friendship stayed exactly the same, except now they got each other off before falling asleep instead of just cuddling. But it was too much, and Harry was too young. He wasn’t ready to wake up next to the same person every day, even if it was Nick. Even if Nick never asked for a title, or to be acknowledged in public, or anything at all. But it was still too much. 

Harry sent a text telling Nick he needed space and made sure to be photographed with a celebrity legacy model the next night. He had no right to be upset. He had no ground to stand on. And yet he still hated to see Nick with someone else, and longed to at least be able to speak to him again. To be mates. At least he’d never seen them kissing, that would be unbearable. 

i’m just finishing at the BBC, are you free? I could meet you at yours or we could go to mine? 

The sound of bubbles popping sounded like static as it echoed off the claw foot tub. Harry read the message over and over. It sounded like a proposition, it felt like an invitation. This couldn’t be real. If James came onto him surely he couldn’t be with Nick. This merited further investigation and Harry quickly sent a cheeky reply. He was much better at flirting from behind a screen, while sober. 

I’m just finishing a bath! come on by!

He smiled as he typed out his address and congratulated himself. He was on his way. The Straight Through Crew would live again, and if he got a cheeky snog, with James or Nick, it’d be an added bonus. 

—

The front bell buzzed a little over an hour later and Harry’s phone chimed with the notification. He tapped the app icon and saw James standing outside his door, his face pale in the poor resolution of the security app’s livestream. Harry tapped the code to unlock the deadbolt and slipped his phone into his pocket. 

The walk to the door was short and he pulled it open and smiled, his charisma easily slipping into place and covering all the cracks in his foundations. It was one of the first skills he learned after X Factor. It was survival. 

“Hey, James. So great to see you,” 

Harry stepped back and James smiled and nodded as he stepped inside. The door slammed closed behind them and James jumped. It was a security measure that Harry’s realtor had convinced him was necessary. All the exterior doors of the flat swung themselves closed in under 2 seconds time. All were armed with auto locks. Fame was isolating, the doors were just startling reminders. 

“Sorry about that,” Harry said and squeezed James’ upper arm as he guided him to the living room. “The doors are for security. They were hard to get used to, but I don’t really even notice them anymore,” 

James hummed and Harry thought he could see a light blush quickly receding from his neck down into his collar bones and chest. Harry was beginning to think that he’d over assumed the nature of James and Nick’s relationship. Nick was captivating, Harry knew from experience. If James was shagging Nick, it would take much more than Harry’s bumbling charm to make him blush. Still, even if he was just a new friend that Nick snogged occasionally he could still be Harry’s way back in. 

This might be even better. Maybe James could be one of Harry’s new snogging mates, as well. Harry had learned over the years that men in his line of work were generally good at keeping secrets. Especially if the secret was that they liked kissing Harry Styles. Harry knew he was handsome, but he was also decent and didn’t want to invite James over under false pretenses in order to prey on him. 

It was tempting, though. They walked down the stairs into the sunken den, an architectural feature from the 70’s Harry had been enamored with since he’d first seen it in old issues of Vogue. They settled next to each other on Harry’s vintage corduroy couch with James’ guitar case between them. 

The silence between them was relaxed, but it still made Harry uncomfortable. 

“So, what was going on at the BBC?” Harry asked. He leaned his cheekbone on his fist and loosely crossed his legs. 

“Weren’t you listening?” James’ tone was flat and his brow was furrowed. Harry opened his mouth to laugh, but James just looked more offended. Harry uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, grabbed James’ knee to keep him from escaping. 

“I’m sorry, James. I didn’t realize you had a segment this morning, if I did I certainly would’ve...” Harry’s apology trailed off and his belly relaxed as James’ face broke into a smile and laughter bubbled out of his mouth. 

“Oh god, Harry. That was too good. I’m just fucking with you, Nick said you’d be easy,” James wiped a tear from the corner of his eye as Harry tried not to read into what James meant by easy. 

“I crashed on Nicks couch last night and Ubered into work with him so I wouldn’t be stranded in his posh neighborhood. I just drank some coffee and laid on the couch. Then I came here,” 

Harry resented the wave of relief he felt wash over him. He shouldn’t care. But still. They weren’t sleeping together.

“Your back must be killing you, mate,” Harry smiled and felt his dimples sink deeper into his cheeks. James smelled so good, masculine and earthy. It was easy to ignore the thoughts of Nick that cried for attention. 

James tossed his head back and laughed. He rubbed his eyes and sighed before replying. “Oh, it’s not so bad. I reckon I only probably lost an inch off my height,” 

Harry doubled over as he laughed and grabbed James’ knee without meaning to. He sucked in a breath and suddenly felt very awkward, pulled his hand away ran it through his hair. They smiled at each other and Harry wondered who’d done James’ new teeth. They looked fantastic. 

“Are you hungry, James?” Harry asked. Of course he wanted to write, but James looked peckish, and the longer he was with James the less he thought of Nick. 

James was also very handsome, and Harry was very lonely. That’s usually when his infatuation with Nick flared up. When he felt isolated and craved something safe and familiar. James wasn’t familiar, but he felt safe. 

Harry didn’t wait for James to respond. 

“C’mon,” he said as he stood up. “Let’s go make a fry up. I just had groceries delivered yesterday, and what’s the use in writing with you if you’ve passed out from hunger and sleep deprivation?”

James smiled and took Harry’s outstretched hand as he stood up from the couch. 

“Have you got any avocado?” James asked. Harry smiled as he replied, “Oh James, you don’t know me at all do you? Of course I have avocado,” 

Harry turned and James held onto his hand a second longer than necessary as they began to climb the deep set stairs to the dining room. 

“A man after my own heart,” James said softly as they walked down the dimly lit hall to the kitchen. Harry didn’t know if he was meant to hear, but he felt warmth blooming in his belly. 

James wasn’t his key to Nick. He was something else entirely. 

—

They texted occasionally in the week after the Breakfast Day, as Harry thought of it in his daydreams. They sent memes and small talk and flirted within the realm of plausible deniability. 

are you going to the indie showcase?

The message interrupted Harry as he was cropping a photo for Instagram. He abandoned the edit and opened his iMessages. 

i haven’t decided. are you?

Harry had decided, and he had decided against it, but if James was going to be there his interest was renewed. And he knew that no party in London would turn away Harry Styles. James’ answer came immediately. 

yeah, i have to do 5 bbc events per year. it’s part of my contract. it’d be fun to see you! 

Harry’s eyes lingered over the last sentence. They were getting dangerously close to flirting in the open now.  
how could i turn down an invitation like that? can’t wait to see you :)

Harry hit send and turned his screen facedown on his desk. He stood up and decided to take a shower. He blow dried his hair and moisturized his tattoos. He stretched and dug around in his wardrobe until his found the Miley t-shirt he bought in Japan. It was made out of recycled plastic bags and very soft. 

An hour had passed by the time Harry worked up the nerve to checked his messages. He had 15, most of them were irrelevant and he deleted them immediately, the others he marked to read later. He reached James’ thread. There was no reply. He opened the last message and there was something at the bottom of the screen he hadn’t noticed before. 

A small heart hung from the right side of his last message. The words beneath it read “James loved this message”

Harry felt pink light glowing from his heart. 

—

Harry had been at the showcase for an hour and a half with no sign of James before the doubt began to settle in. Anxious nausea began to swirl in his stomach and he went to the bar and ordered a cranberry and vodka to help calm his nerves. He downed it within a minute of the glass hitting the bar top and felt so much better he immediately ordered another. And another. 

He cheeks felt flush and he began to chuckle at his situation. He was one of Britain’s most eligible bachelor’s and he was about to get pity shagged by one of the high priced escorts hanging around the bar. He was an easy kill and they were beginning to edge their way closer to him and he didn’t have the will to flee. He’d done it before in Amsterdam. He was cosmopolitan.

An olive skinned woman with green eyes was about to strike when he felt someone squeeze his shoulder. He turned, and had never been happier to see James. He was wearing a slim cut suit with embroidered rosette lapels. Gucci. Harry could always recognize Gucci. 

“There you are,” he said. He stood up and only swayed a little, but James still steadied him with a hand on his hip. 

“Yeah,” James said softly. Harry was suddenly very sleepy and felt himself leaning against James. He could feel the words vibrating in his chest. “Sorry I’m late. I had to do some interviews backstage. Hey, are you alright?” 

Harry had twined his arms around James’ neck was breathing softly against him. They were pressed together from chest to thigh and Harry reveled in the contact. He didn’t want it to stop. 

“Yeah,” he replied. “Hey, could you take me to the loo? I need to put some water on my face. I’m tired,” 

James’ chest shook with a burst of laughter, but he acquiesced. “Of course, Harry. It’s easy to get tired after mainlining cranberry vodka. I can smell it on your breath, love,” 

love

Harry smiled against James’ neck and was sad when the noise of the club faded away and James propped him up against the formica bathroom counter top. He rested his hands on the cold edges of the ceramic basin and turned on the cold tap. The water gushed out and cold drops sprayed up and onto his neck, it was refreshing and he opened his eyes in time to see James primping in the other side of the mirror. 

Harry watched as James unbuttoned the third button on his shirt. He was thin enough that the fabric still laid mostly flat, but the beauty marks on James’ chest peaked through. He didn’t think. Not really. He just moved forward. First he was standing alone. Then he was pressing himself against James until they stumbled back and James’ spine hit the tile wall. 

He felt like he was high. His face was buried in James’ neck again. He drug his lips over James’ pulse as he pulled James’ shirt up and out of his waistband. He wasn’t wearing an undershirt. Harry pushed his hands up against James’ belly, and then his ribs. He pressed his tongue against James’ neck and tasted the salt on his skin. He pressed his palm over James’ nipple and started to suck under his jaw. 

Harry felt James’ hands on his shoulders, and he squeezed hard enough to make his collar bones ache, but he didn’t push him away. He inhaled shakily. Harry ran his hands up and dug his fingernails into James’ shoulder blades. He shoved his thigh between James’ legs and pressed their bodies together. He pulled his hands down and scratched the length of James back as he lifted his face and closed his eyes. He leaned forward and felt the warmth of James’ breath. And then. 

Nothing. He felt his forehead press against the cold wall and he opened his eyes. James had turned away. Oh, no. He stepped back fast enough that he stumbled and almost fell. He leaned against the counter and looked at James. His chest was heaving and his eyes were closed. His back was arched and Harry thought of the scratches. He hated himself. He was so fucked up. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. His voice began to crack. “Really, I-I drank too much, I didn’t mean to, to hurt you,” His eyes began to burn with tears as James spoke. 

“Harry, stop. Please, you have no idea how bad I want this,” He moved quickly and before Harry could register what was happening James was pushing his hard cock against Harry’s thigh. Harry could feel the outline through two layers of fabric. He spoke lowly into Harry’s ear. 

“You can feel it now, though. I want you so bad. I want to push you down on your knees and rub my cock all over your lips,” 

Harry whimpered and his knees felt like jelly. “Yes, please. I want it. I want you.” 

James stepped back and looked at Harry in the eye. His eyes were pink and Harry could tell he wasn’t the only one who’d been drinking. His voice was steady as he spoke, “No, Harry. We can’t. You’re drunk. It’s not right,”

Harry whined and pouted but didn’t argue. It was pointless. And they were in a public bathroom, it was as miracle they hadn’t been caught. 

James pulled out his phone and tapped on the screen. “C’mon,” he said, “I’m getting an Uber. I think we both need to go to bed,” 

Harry nodded and followed James out of the bathroom and out of the club. They sat next to each other on the curb and waited for the car. They were both half asleep when it pulled up, and Harry could barely keep his eyes open as he stumbled out of the car and waved goodbye to James when they reached his flat. He fumbled with his key until he got the door to open and nearly screamed when it slammed closed behind him. He kicked off his shoes and crawled underneath his comforter. He could smell James on his clothes. He sighed and closed his eyes. He hadn’t thought of Nick all night. 

—

He remembered everything as soon as he opened his eyes the next morning. He dug his phone out of the blankets and checked his messages. Nothing from James. At least he was expecting the wave of anxiety when it crashed over him. 

James said he wanted him, too. But they were both drunk. Maybe James wouldn’t remember. Why had he had so much to drink? Nick made him feel too young and James made him feel too much. 

They didn’t talk that day. Or the next. Or for the following week. Harry was too proud to be the first one to cave. He’d made himself clear. James knew how he felt. But the more days passed the more Harry wished he didn’t. 

Another week, two now. 

Harry didn’t understand. He knew he was handsome, which meant that there was only his personality for James to dislike. As soon as James mentioned it he should have dropped to his knees and started sucking. Such a missed opprotunity. 

He had resigned himself to avoiding James for the rest of his life when the text came through. 

listening party tonight at my old pub. can i pick you up at 8?

Harry was confused. Two weeks of silence broken as if no time had passed. He was too infatuated to question it.

okay

He responded. Then: 

see you soon xo

—

here

The text lit up Harry’s phone at exactly 8:05. Harry trotted down the stairs and smiled as he pulled open the backdoor of the shiny, black car. James was sitting with his leg crossed at the ankle and one arm draped across the back of the seat. He met Harry’s eye and smiled warmly. He was dressed in black jeans and a distressed Bowie t-shirt with a vintage blood red cardigan. His boots were pointed and the buckles shone in the low light. Harry was wearing leather pants that clung to his thighs and vintage Packers sweater and as he slid into his seat he caught James watching the fabric pull over his skin. 

He closed his door and the car pulled away and into traffic. 

James turned and looked at him before he spoke, “I’m sorry, Harry. I just thought we could use some space. And…I was embarrassed about how I acted. I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have treated you like that, or talked to you like that,” 

James’ cheeks were blushing and glowing a deep pink. 

“It’s okay,” Harry rushed out. James shouldn’t feel bad. Ever. “We were both drunk. It’s not a big deal, it happens. Let’s just move on,” Harry smiled and nodded and was drunk with relief as James began to nod, too. 

“Okay,” he said as he smiled and squeezed Harry’s hand. Harry got tingles all the way up to his shoulders as he locked eyes with James. They held hands the entire way to the pub and only let go when their car stopped moving. Harry immediately missed the warmth and the pressure. 

James leaned forward and paid the driver. He opened his door and slid out, Harry followed quickly behind. The door to the pub was only a few steps from the street and James pulled it open as he reached back and again took Harry’s hand. He held him close as they moved through the crowd. 

The pub was about half full. The lights were down and Harry felt James lace their fingers together as soon as they walked inside. It was a mix of what Harry assumed to be the club’s normal clientele and industry people, both sides eyeing each other cautiously. They made their way to the bar and James rubbed the back of Harry’s hand as he signaled for the bartender. 

“Two kamikazee shots, please,”

“Make that three,” 

Harry knew that voice. He’d heard in on the radio and whispered into his ear. The bartender smiled and nodded as she began to mix and James let go of Harry’s hand to hug Nick. 

“Nick, so great to see you! See, I told you I could get him to come out,” 

James nodded toward Harry and grabbed his hand again. Harry could feel his smile freezing, and he knew Nick would notice. 

“Don’t worry, Harry. I was just telling James that you’ve been a bit of hermit these past few months. I’ve missed you, you know,” Nick smiled and his eyes crinkled at the sides as he leaned his elbow against the bar top. 

“I’ve been busy. I should’ve kept in touch better. But, it’s really great to see you, Nick. I’ve missed you. Too,” 

Harry bit his bottom lip and looked down. He could feel James squeezing his hand, but he still felt like he was trapped in a dream. He jumped when a waitress set their shot glasses down in front of them. 

“Perfect choice, Jamesy. Something light and citrus to get the night started, but still with enough content to knock Harry on his ass,” Nick lifted his glass and winked before downing it easily. 

James knocked his back and Harry followed. The vodka stung the back of his throat, but the lemon juice was sweet and the alcohol helped him forget to avoid eye contact with Nick. The waitress passed by and James signaled for another round. This time they all drank simultaneously and began laughing after dropping their glasses on the bar top. 

“Oh Christ, you lads almost make up for this being contractually obligated,” James smiled and looked at Harry. His eyes were sweet and calm and Harry frowned when James let go of his hand, “I’ve got to go film a promo for the telly broadcast. It’s just backstage I’ll be right back. You lads stay here so I can find you,” 

Harry pouted, but nodded. This time it was him who ordered another round. Nick was standing beside him but it felt like there was a heavy glass wall between them. This is what always happened. Harry would fixate, and crave, and pine, and then when he finally got what he wanted…he didn’t want it any more. He’d wanted to get close to Nick and now he was so close he could feel him breathing. And he was frozen in place. 

“Listen. I’m sorry, Nick,” Harry ground the words out of his throat and stared at a spot on Nick’s shoulder as he kept talking, “It was wrong how I treated you. I was immature, and I didn’t know what to do, and I couldn’t stand the thought of you crying,” Harry could feel tears beginning to well in his eyes and his voice was on the verge of cracking. “So I thought it would be better if I could make you hate me. So then you’d be angry, instead of sad. I was never with her, Nick. When I was with you it was only you, please believe me,” 

Harry dared to look Nick in the eye a second before he was pulled into a warm hug, familiar and designer fragranced. 

“Oh sweet Harry. This has been so silly. There’s nothing to forgive. We were never exclusive, little one. Do you promise to talk to me next time instead of all these dramatics?”

Harry wiped his eyes and started laughing as he nodded. He swayed from foot to foot and Nick steadied him with a hand on his lower back. Harry pulled away and braced himself against the bar. He didn’t mean to, he didn’t think about it, but Nick smiled as he looked Harry up and down. 

“That’s what I thought. It’s James, right? He’s the one who’s allowed to touch you now?” 

Harry could tell Nick was joking, but he could still feel a lingering sadness. Young love always leaves aftershocks. 

“He’s very perceptive, our Jamesy. He could tell you wanted to talk to me. He’s not filming anything, he’s sitting backstage waiting for me to tell him to come out. He really cares about you, Harry,” Nick looked down at his phone, presumably telling James it was safe to return. 

“I’m glad we can be mates again,” Harry said as he watched James make his way across the pub. Nick smirked and agreed and flashed thumbs up at James. James looked at Harry, waiting for a cue. Harry felt awkward and squirmy and grabbed James’ hand as he spoke, “We’ve talked it out and we’re mates again,” 

“I’m so glad,” James said as he snaked his arm around Harry’s waist. “Shall we celebrate with more shots?”

James wiggled his eyebrows and Harry stopped counting what drink they were on.

—

The next morning left Harry confused and irritated. He woke up in an apartment that was not his. He was alone in a bed wearing some borrowed sleepers and scrappy undershirt. His head spun when he stood up and he steadied himself against the doorframe as he eased into the living area. 

There were tall windows that seemed to channel the sunlight directly into Harry’s retinas. He winced and rubbed his temples as he spotted a pair of socked feet propped up on the arm of the couch. Harry approached slowly. The socks were argyle and patterned with hot pink and were being worn by Nick Grimshaw. 

Nick was sleeping on his back with his face shoved behind a sofa cushion. This was not Nick’s apartment. Harry still followed Nick on Instagram and knew what his apartment looked like, and this was not it. Harry grabbed Nick’s ankle and shook until he started to groan. 

“Nick, wake up. Nick, c’mon you have to get up. Nick, this is serious, I don’t know where we are,” 

Nick pulled his legs up towards his chest and away from Harry. “Oh Christ, Harry. We’re at James’. It’s too early for this harassment, just go back to bed.” 

Nick rubbed his eyes and began to roll deeper into the depths of the cushions. Harry grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. 

“Harry. Every man has his breaking point. I’m almost a decade older than you and alcohol doesn’t love me like it used to. Please, let me die in peace,” Nick’s voice was hoarse and and exhausted. Harry sighed and Nick rolled on his belly and pulled the cushion so it was over his head. 

Harry went back to the bedroom to find his phone. He was digging around in the bedding when he heard the front door open, followed almost immediately by Nick’s cries of displeasure. 

Harry heard the scolding response through the bedroom door, “It’s almost noon, Nick. You’re fine,” 

James. 

Bits of the night before started to come back to Harry. Drinking entirely too much (again). Hailing a cab and almost getting run over, holding James’ hand on the ride to his flat. 

James’ flat. He was at James’ flat, in his bedroom. They had slept in the same bed. He could hear paper sacks rustling as James unpacked groceries on the kitchen counter. The heels on his boots clicked on the tile as he walked around. Harry listened to the clicks as he assessed his body for signs of sexual activity. 

click, click, click

Harry heard the range click on, James must be cooking something. He could hear Nick’s voice mumbling, but couldn’t make out the words. Below the waist he felt completely normal, hopefully he didn’t miss anything interesting. He looked at himself in the mirror that hung above James’ dresser and the only notable change was that his hair was greasy and his curls tangled. No marks on his neck. Disappointing. 

click, click 

James was still rattling around in the kitchen. Maybe Nick had risen from his tomb of cushions and required nursing, or James was cooking something that needed minding. Harry lifted up his shirt and gasped when he saw the bruises littered across his chest. They began just beneath his collarbones and trailed all the way down to his navel. He looked closer at the dark marks on his belly and traced his fingertips over the imprints of teeth. He pushed on the deep purple blooming beneath his tattoos and hummed as his toes curled. 

click, click

“Harry,” 

Harry pulled his shirt back down and spun around to find James closing the door behind him and smiling. 

“I thought you were in the kitchen,” Harry looked at James’ forehead as he explained. He didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t even remember getting to the flat the night before, he was embarrassed and afraid to ask what had happened. 

“I was, but then I came to check on you because Nick said you had some type of melt down this morning,” 

James hadn’t moved from where he was leaning against the closed door and Harry stayed planted in front of the dresser across the room. Neither of them looked at the rumpled bed. 

“I didn’t have a meltdown, and Nick’s concept of time is fucked since it’s only been about 30 minutes since I talked to him. I was just confused because I woke up alone and I didn't know where I was,” He watched as James flinched and he couldn't resist pushing the knife deeper, “Thanks for that, by the way. It was lovely,” 

James sighed and crossed the room to sit on the bed. He leaned against the quilted headboard and patted the space next to him. Harry hesitated before James spoke, “Harry, please. I don't want to do this. You saw what’s under your shirt. Do you remember last night?” 

Harry crossed his arms and felt the bruises on his chest ache. He didn’t reply, but he did join James on the bed before he answered. 

“I remember a little of what happened at the pub, I remember being in the cab with you and Nick, but nothing else. Did we fuck?” 

James looked down at his lap and smiled. Harry prepared to be very disappointed. What a shame to block out a good fuck. James reached over and grabbed Harry’s hand. He waited until Harry turned to look at him before answering. 

“No, we didn’t. Because every time you decide to come onto me you are wasted. Unfortunately I was also wasted and indulged in sucking on your chest for awhile before we passed out. As you saw. Sorry, love.” 

Harry laughed and pulled James over so they could rest their foreheads together. 

“Oh, thank God. I would have been so upset if I missed our first fuck,” 

James smiled and held eye contact as he whispered, “Is a fuck the only thing you’re interested in?” 

Harry’s breath was pushed out of his lungs as James rolled on top of him and wedged his hips in between Harry’s legs. “We haven’t even kissed,” 

James was still whispering and Harry could feel the warm puff of breath against his lips. He closed his eyes and rolled his hips up. He pushed his hands up and under James’ shirt and pulled him down until there was no space between them. 

“Do you want it?” James asked in a rushed, hot breath. 

“Yes, James. Please, I want you,” 

James’ stubble rubbed against Harry’s cheek as he pressed him into the bed and kissed him deeply. He slipped his tongue between Harry’s lips and ground their cocks together. 

Harry moaned and squeezed James’ shoulder blades. James thrust against him again and laid his hand lightly over Harry’s throat. He gently tightened his grip and ground himself down against Harry. Harry arched his back, closed his eyes, and came. James felt the warmth of Harry’s come seeping threw the front of his jeans. 

“Oh, God. I couldn’t help it, I’m sorry,” Harry ran his hand up and down James’ back as he tried to regulate his breathing. He could feel James’ erection pressing into his belly and he whispered into James’ ear in his best breathy sex voice: 

“Let me suck it. I’ve had dreams about sucking your cock,” 

James sat up and pulled his shirt off before rolling onto his back. His skin was smooth and perfect and reminded Harry of classical statues he’d seen in Greece. Harry felt warmth radiating from his skin and gasped when he pulled off his shirt and cold air rushed around him. 

James’ chest was rising and falling quickly as Harry undid his belt and pulled his jeans down his thighs and dropped them onto the floor. Harry kicked his sleepers off but left his pants. James’ cock was straining up towards his belly and a deep blush was blooming across his chest. 

“Harry, please. I want you,” James ran his fingers along Harry’s jaw as he settled in between James’ legs and gently sucked the head of his cock into his mouth. 

James clenched his fingers in Harry’s hair and sighed deeply as Harry eased more and more into his mouth. Harry closed his eyes and lost himself in the sensation. 

James was long, and thick, and Harry’s jaw stretched as he sucked. He could feel himself getting hard again and he let James’ cock out of his mouth with a pop as he sat up and pulled his pants off. 

James leaned up and tangled his fingers in Harry’s curls before pulling him in for a deep kiss. James ran his tongue along Harry’s lips and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. Harry could feel James’ heart beating against chest and he felt like he was high. It felt too good. 

James pressed his palm against the small of Harry’s back as he eased him back onto the bed. Harry spread his legs and ground himself up against James. 

“James, I want to fuck. I’m not drunk anymore, I promise. I can be quiet, Nick won’t hear,” 

James laughed as he stretched over Harry to pull a condom and a bottle of lube from his nightstand. The bottle was mostly full and Harry wondered if it was a fresh purchase, or if James had been going through a dry spell. Or maybe he’d been fucking women and made them wet enough to not need it. The thought made Harry’s cock twitch. 

“Darling, I don’t give a fuck if Nick hears. He’s a grown man, he can leave if he doesn’t like it,” 

James kissed Harry as he pressed two slick fingers into him. Harry moaned deeply and arched his back as James moved in and out, deeper and further with each finger he added. Finally, when Harry’s cock was throbbing along with his heart beat, James rolled on the condom and pushed his cock into Harry’s ass. 

They kissed as James ground into Harry and Harry got used to the deep, aching pressure. 

Harry wrapped his legs around James’ waist and rolled his hips up, “C’mon, fuck me,” he breathed into James’ ear. Harry squeezed his eyes shut and sank his teeth into James’ shoulder as he began to fuck him in earnest. 

Having sex with a man was everything Harry remembered, and more. The way James moved against him was intoxicating and the feeling of James’ abs grinding into his leaking cock was enough to make him feel like he was floating. 

James was more aggressive than Nick. He didn’t fuck Harry like he was a porcelain doll. Harry had been young when he was with Nick and he always felt like it made Nick baby him. Harry longed to submit and Nick would only hold him down when he begged or negotiated for it. Harry craved bruises around his wrists, around his collar bones, and Nick wouldn’t give them to him. 

“Choke me,” Harry whispered and James immediately complied. He held himself up with one arm, his hand pressed into the mattress next to Harry’s head, and wrapped his free hand around Harry’s throat. He squeezed firmly as he fucked harder into Harry. The pressure was amazing and was just enough to make Harry see colors spark in and out of his peripheral vision. 

Harry stretched his hands above his head and James let go of his throat. Harry sucked a deep breathe into his lungs as James pushed his tongue into his mouth and sucked on his lips. 

James reached up and grabbed Harry’s wrists, pinning each of them against the mattress and fucked him hard enough to make headboard beat against the wall.

Harry came as James whispered filthy fantasies into his ear. He wanted to fuck him in the bathroom at the Brits and suck his lips until they swelled. He wanted to suck Harry off as talked on the phone to his mother. He wanted to record himself sucking Harry’s cock so he could get himself off to it while he was on tour. 

Harry went limp after he came and moaned as James fucked him messily. Harry could feel him everywhere, his cock was hard and relentless as it filled his insides, his lips were soft against his forehead, and his sweat was hot as it ran down their chests. 

James was muttering obscenities mixed with Harry’s name as he worked himself closer to orgasm. The pleasure was so intense that it made tears run from the corners of Harry’s eyes and just when he thought he couldn’t take anymore he felt James’ cock pulsing inside him as he came. 

“Oh, fuck. Oh, Harry, that was divine,” 

James gently pulled out of Harry and rolled next to him. He pulled off the condom and dropped it into the waste bin beside the bed before he wrapped his arm around Harry and pulled him so that his cheek rested against James’ chest. 

They rested together quietly as the sweat and come on their bodies began to cool and their hearts slowed to a normal rhythm. James let go of Harry and leaned over the edge of the mattress, when he sat up he was holding a cigar box he must’ve pulled from under the bed. 

“I don’t smoke cigarettes,” James said, “they’re awful for your voice. However, I do like bit of weed now and again and that fuck was definitely worthy of it,” 

He’d pulled a blunt and lighter from the box as he talked and the end of it burned bright red as he sucked the smoke into his lungs. He didn’t cough as he closed his eyes and exhaled the fragrant smoke into the air. 

He passed the blunt to Harry and Harry closed his eyes and focused on not coughing as he pulled the smoke into his lungs. He exhaled quickly, less graceful than James, but he could immediately feel the high settle over his body. 

They lay side by side and passed the blunt back and forth until it was burnt down to the filter and James tossed it in the bin. James laced his fingers together with Harry’s and rolled onto his side to look at him. 

“Was it good for you, love?” 

James sounded so sincere and Harry felt his dimples emerge as he smiled. 

“Oh, yes. That was fantastic. I’ve been craving a fuck like that for years,” 

“You are so naughty, Harry Styles,” James whispered through a smile before pulling Harry so that he was pressed against his chest and James’ arm was wrapped around Harry’s belly. The combination of THC and good sex was a powerful sleeping potion and neither of them woke up as Nick took black mail pictures before Ubering home. 

—

After the first fuck they couldn’t get enough of each other. Weeks slipped past in a blur. They took naps wrapped up with each other on Harry’s ridiculous vintage couch. They never spent a night apart and after a couple weeks Harry had his own dresser in James’ closet. They sucked each other off in the studio as they sang demos they’d written together and Harry couldn’t remember the last time he was this happy. 

Winter melted into Spring and Harry was photographed with his hand tucked into one of James’ back pockets as they strolled through the neighborhood flea market. When he saw the headline and the image plastering the newsstands he braced himself for James to flee, but he didn’t.

Harry apologized and James waved him off. 

“Harry, don’t be ridiculous. You have nothing to apologize for. I’d be more offended if my boyfriend didn’t like to touch my ass,” 

They were sitting on James’ couch watching the Great British Bake Off and James’ words sounded as sweet as the deserts on screen looked. 

“I’m your boyfriend?” Harry asked sweetly as a blush rushed up James’ neck. 

“Well, I know we haven’t really talked about it, but I’m not fucking anyone else, and I don’t want to fuck anyone besides you, Harry. Talking to you isn’t so bad, either,” 

A grin broke across James’ face and Harry felt his heart flutter in his chest. He responded as he began to press wet kisses onto James’ throat. 

“I want to be the only person you fuck. I want to sleep with you every night. I want to know you like no one ever has before. I want to make you come more than anyone else ever has,” 

Harry’s voice was a deep drawl that James couldn’t resist. Harry wanted it hard and James wanted to please Harry. They fucked as the dusty afternoon sun began to surrender to darkness and when they were finished Harry pretended not to notice the scratches in the wood floors from the couch rocking. 

—

They arrived to the party together and stood shoulder to shoulder on the red carpet, but they never touched. Harry made a point to gaze at James’ back whenever he could. He didn’t mind if he was being obvious. He wanted to see the photos. 

The carpet was short and the photo line was expedited, and in a little under 10 minutes after arrival they were walking into the low lighting of BBC Media’s Spring Charity Gala. James brushed the back of his hand against Harry’s and Harry smiled down towards his feet.

They passed an hour mingling with friends, acquaintances, and professional connections. They stood apart from the dance floor near the bar and giggled together. The punch was spiked but they weren’t drunk yet. The fairy lights were blinding LED and looked like stars reflected in James’ eyes. Harry thought it was beautiful. 

Harry was about to break their flimsy no touching at events rule when he felt someone squeeze his shoulder. 

“Aaaayyyyyy, boys!” It was Nick and he was most definitely drunk. As a BBC employee he’d been in the event space since the early afternoon doing company work, and he’d been drinking almost as long. Harry was happy to see him, but there was no lust left. It was a relief. 

“Holy shit, are you two together-together now?” Nick’s eyes widened as he slurred and looked between them. He giggled and winked at Harry, James tensed but it was too late.

“You’re a lucky man, Harry Styles,” Nick said as he raised his eyebrows suggestively. He turned to face James and babbled on, “Jamesy is such a sweet fuck. His mouth is divine,” Nick reached out and ran his thumb along James lower lip, James pulled away and Nick stumbled back at the same time. 

“Oh God, sorry. Sorry, Harry. I’m so drunk, I’m leaving” he rubbed his eyes and walked unsteadily back into the crowd. 

“What was he talking about?” The words burned in Harry’s throat. James wouldn’t look at him. He licked his lips, but he didn’t speak. 

“Are you fucking serious? When? Just tell me when,” 

James glanced at the hired photographers dotted along the walls. They were less drawn to scandal than typical paparazzi, but Harry Styles crying and screaming at someone is hard to pass up. 

“Harry, we can’t do this here. Please, let’s leave and talk,” James tried to take Harry’s hand but he wrenched away. 

“No, Jamesy. When? When did you fuck him?”

“Oh Jesus, Harry. It was last month. A week before I kissed you. I’m sorry,”

Harry’s stomach hardened. It wasn’t betrayal. It was rejection. He had always been too young, too shallow. He had been deluding himself to believe otherwise. He was just a pretty face to suck James off. Just a young body for him to fuck. James reached for his hand and Harry pulled away. 

“Harry,” James said as his eyes started to shine. Harry shook his head and turned before the heat in his eyes could spill down his cheeks. He walked away and didn’t look back. He didn’t care that James didn’t follow him. 

—

The paparazzi pictures from that night were plastered everywhere for the next week. Harry had pushed his way out through the front door of the venue, drunk and angry and not caring who saw. The flash bulbs had been blinding and it had taken minutes to get to the car. The headlines said he was stumbling drunk and his eyes were red from snorting cocaine. At least it sounded more James Dean-esque than the truth. He was crying over a boy and angry at himself for believing he could really have him. 

The phone calls from James also came every day for the next week. At first it was a couple times an hour, but dwindled as the days went on until there was only one call, and a final message on the last day. 

“Harry. I’m so sorry, but if you won’t talk to me I don’t see the point in this. I don’t know what else to say. I don’t know how to talk to you. I’m angry at you too, you know. This isn’t fair. We weren’t together yet when I slept with him. We hadn’t even kissed yet, Harry. I wanted you so bad and I didn’t have anywhere to put it. Nick was easy and he was there and I knew it would be safe. I only wanted you, Harry. I still only want you. I hate this. I miss you,” 

There was a long crackling silence before the message ended. It was the only one that Harry didn’t delete. Sometimes when he listened to it he thought the crackling was James breathing, other times he tricked himself into thinking it was James crying. 

—

It was June and oppressively humid. Harry was in New York on a press junket for his new Gucci campaign. It was his third collaboration with the brand and was inspired by old, malicious fairy tales. Harry’s favorite image was of him wearing a black velvet suit with a crown of thistle tangled in his hair. He was eating a ruby encrusted heart and his incisors were covered with fangs made from polished opal. It was chic and chilling. The fake blood that dripped down his face and chest had been sticky and tasted like watermelon. 

Harry had just wrapped his 70 Questions with Vogue segment and inhaled deeply as he stepped out of the lobby, which was kept serenely chilled and scented of vanilla, into the damp air of the city afternoon filled with traffic sounds and inhalants. He lowered his head and descended into the subway as he felt his phone buzz against his thigh. 

It was a message from Nick. 

Free to talk? 

Harry’s train slowed to a stop and he easily found a seat. It was the lull between lunch and rush hour and the train car was half empty. 

Sure 

Almost immediately Nick’s face filled Harry’s screen and he pressed the green button to accept the call. 

“Hey, Nick. What’s going on?” After they’d gotten through a couple weeks of awkwardness they easily fell back into their old friendship. Harry had missed it more than he let himself realize. There was pause and he could hear Nick inhaling deeply, he was working himself up to something. 

“Hazza, what happened with James?”

Harry scowled. They’d never acknowledged what happened at the BBC Media event and Harry had assumed that Nick couldn’t remember. That was the first time Nick had ever seen them together, like that. Harry couldn’t imagine what else he could be referring to. He felt irritation settle into his blood and he knew there was no getting rid of it. 

“What do you mean? You told me you fucked him and then I went home. Why does it matter?” 

“Oh,” Nick said sounding deflated. “I-I don’t remember what you’re talking about. I didn’t know you knew about that. Listen, I’m sorry, we can talk about that later, but it’s not the reason I called. He’s really upset, Harry. He isn’t himself and he won’t talk to me. The only reason I know it has something to do with you because when I mention your name he leaves the room,” 

Harry felt sick. James had said he was angry at him, but leaving the room at the mention of his name seemed overly dramatic and also painted him in an unfairly poor light. It had been a long day and Harry didn’t have the energy to lie. And he figured it was only a matter of time before Nick wore James down and any lie he told would be exposed, anyway. 

“We were kind of together. We’d been hanging out since fashion week in London and had just started getting physical before the BBC party. He didn’t tell me about what happened with you and I found out when you told me at the charity event. It’s fine, Nick. It’s not a big deal. There’s nothing to talk about,” 

“Harry, you are such a sweet boy and the world loves you, but it doesn’t revolve around you. I’m not calling to apologize to you. I’m calling you because you need to fix whatever happened between you and James. He’s suffering and he doesn’t deserve it. You get so upset when anyone reminds you that you’re young, but you still act like a spoilt brat when you have to deal with adult problems. Get it together, mate. Talk to him at least, you can do that much,” 

Harry’s cheeks burned with shame and he was angry because he knew Nick was right. He’d known it all along, but it was easier to be angry than to be hurt. He was still annoyed that Nick was getting involved in his personal business, though. The train began to skid to a halt as it approached Harry’s stop and he stood up as he spoke to Nick. 

“I hear you, I get it. I’ll take of it.” Harry knew he couldn’t call James. He was too embarrassed and too scared, but he had another idea in mind. Nick thanked him and began to chatter about a new cologne he’d ordered from Sweden, but Harry wasn’t inclined to talk and quickly said goodbye before shoving his phone back into his pocket and climbing up the Subway stairs into the Summer heat. 

—

 

It was July Fourth and Harry was scheduled to be the last live performer on The Late Show with Corden. The production team had planned the performance order so that the fireworks would begin less than a minute after the final notes of Harry’s song left the amplifiers. Corden was near to being at the top of the late night game and Harry refused to be intimidated by the amount of people he knew would be tuning in. 

Harry hoped that James would be watching, but even if he wasn’t, he was still in LA. Harry called on his friendship with Corden to manipulate the performance schedule so he’d be in the city at the same time Janes’ tour was passing through, and he meant to make the most of it. He had to see James, talk to him, before he left the city. Even if it killed him. He just had to catch his attention first. 

He was wearing the pink shirt from the night he’d thought James and Nick were shagging. He’d knicked it from James’ flat when he’d been showering. At the time he felt like it was owed to him, he blazed the trail for full sequin men’s wear, after all. 

After their fight it had hung in Harry’s closet like an accusation. It still smelled of James’ cologne and the silk was soft against Harry’s skin. He was standing backstage listening to the announcer count down to the beginning of his set.

He was wearing his black acoustic guitar and it felt heavy and solid against his belly as he walked on stage. The lights went down and Harry stood alone. Pink light glimmered through the mist being pumped around his feet as he spoke into the microphone. 

“Hello, everyone. Thank you so much for coming and happy Fourth of July! My first song tonight is a cover, and it means a great deal to me. You see, I’ve been very stupid. My friend Nick told me I’ve been acting like a spoilt brat, and I agree,” 

He took a deep breath and looked down before continuing, “James. I’m so sorry, I’m so embarrassed. Please, talk to me. This is Wild Love,” 

Harry played the song alone to a hushed crowd. He hit the final cord and the audience exploded into applause as his band filled the stage behind him. He smiled directly into the monitor and hoped that James was watching. 

He played What Makes You Beautiful, Two Ghosts, and America, the Beautiful before his time was up and he strode off stage, handing his guitar to a PA as he descended the stage stairs. There was nothing left to do now. If he didn’t hear from James over night he’d call him in the morning. Either James would pick up and hear him out, or he’d ignore the call, and Harry would have his answer. 

—

He didn’t have to wait long. He was fussing with his hair in his dressing room when the door opened and James filled the mirror behind him. Harry turned and couldn’t hide his shock, he’d only left the stage 10 minutes ago. 

James closed the door behind him but didn’t cross the room. He broke the silence. 

“I was already on my way. I just wanted to talk to you so badly. I’ve missed you, Harry. So much,” 

Harry smiled and could feel his eyes filling with tears of happiness and relief. 

“I’ve missed you too, James. I’m sorry. It was all my fault, it doesn’t matter if you slept with him. Can we try again?” 

Harry was still bracing himself against the vanity counter as a wide smile broke across James’ face and he crossed the room. He wrapped his arms around Harry and Harry locked his arms around James’ neck. Harry inhaled the comforting, masculine scent of him and when they kissed it felt as if no time had passed. 

“I missed you so much,” Harry whispered in between kisses. “Not having you was making me sick. I was going through withdrawal,” 

James laughed softly as he gently laid Harry down on the dressing room futon and began pressing soft kisses along his neck. 

“I missed your tattoos, I missed your laugh, but I missed laying in bed with you the most. Let’s get out of here, I want you,” 

The way James spoke sent chills up and down Harry’s spine. He was so unabashed and comfortable with himself and his charism was overwhelming. Harry felt drunk on him. 

—

 

They sat pressed thigh to thigh in the backseat of Harry’s Uber Black. They didn’t speak, instead gazing placidly through the windows until they accidentally caught each other’s eye and smiled. James smelled like vanilla and bergamot and warmth rolled off him in waves. 

Harry bit his lower lip and sighed as he felt it swell between his teeth. He sucked the air back in when he felt James’ long fingers wrap around his thigh and squeeze. They’d been in the car for 20 minutes. There was at least another 15 before they reached Harry’s apartment. There could be paparazzi in the cars around them. They had to wait. 

“James,” Harry whispered as he put his hand over James’ and gently pushed. It seemed a clear enough warning. James didn’t remove his hand, but he also didn’t slide it any higher. Harry left his hand on top of James’ and went back to watching the billboards they passed between surges of traffic.

They were 4 intersections from Harry’s building when James ran his hand up the length of Harry’s thigh and pressed it against Harry’s crotch. Harry could feel his cock fattening up as James massaged it and he kept looking out the window, kept gnawing on his lower lip. 

He wanted to close his eyes, sit back, and let James make him come, but he could just imagine the pap pictures. James wasn’t used to being followed like he was.  
He grabbed James’ hand, laced their fingers together, and moved it back to his thigh. 

“What if someone sees? They have cameras everywhere,”

James leaned over and whispered into Harry’s ear, “Then they see,” 

He lowered his head and sucked a long kiss on Harry’s neck before sitting back and crossing his arms. Harry was breathing heavy and his concerns seemed much less pressing when he could see the outline of James’ cock through his slacks They held eye contact as Harry pressed the button to raise the partition and began undoing James’ fly. 

Harry pulled out James’ swollen cock and began sucking like it was the last time he was going to have the chance. 

James’ ran his fingers through Harry’s hair and swore as Harry took him deeper and deeper. James came across Harry’s lips just as the car slowed to stop outside Harry’s building. James tucked himself back into his pants and kissed Harry until he’d cleaned all the come from his lips. The flash bulbs started exploding from pap cameras the second James opened the car door. 

They looked a mess, but Harry didn’t care. He wanted them to see.


End file.
